I Dream of Faberry
by hoglee
Summary: A series of oneshots in which either Rachel or Quinn (pos some of the other characters too if inspiration strikes) dream of a fabulous Faberry union in some unusual realm of the subconscious. First Installment: The Mckinley High Debating Society. Second Installment: 'The Princess-Bride of Mckinley High'.
1. The Mckinley High Debating Society

**A/N: I know I haven't updated my other stories in weeks. I'm in the middle of my AS exams and it's all a bit hectic. Had to write this and get it posted though – it was bugging my head!**

Mr Schuester bounced into the choir room, boyish as ever, though dressed in a somewhat incongruous pin-stripe suit with spats.

Rachel gaped at the bizarre apparition, but no one else looked in the least bit perturbed – bar Santana, who looked as revolted by the teacher's enthusiasm as she always was. It was not enough to stop her filing her nails however.

Did no one else think it was odd that Mr S was dressed as some crude mock-up of a 1930s fat-cat, not unlike the lead in 'The Producers'? Come to think of it, what were all those podiums doing at the front of the choir room? And where was the piano? And... Rachel squinted, sure she was mistaken.

No, that really was Brad sat in the corner of the apparently-no-longer-choir room, poised, pen in hand, evidently expecting to take notes on the proceedings.

Rachel was about to ask what on earth was going on when the wall-posters caught her eye. Full-page colour prints of Winston Churchill, John Kennedy and Hilary Clinton. Much as she admired the three, she could not imagine what business their portraits had in the club room. Her eyes fell on the podiums again and she opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by the over-dressed Mr Schuester literally jumping to the front of the class.

'Okay Guys, listen up. Any of you watched the news this week?'

Everyone shook their heads. In fact, Rachel had, but she was so gob-smacked that she forgot even to nod.

Mr Schu sighed. 'C'mon Guys! If we want to beat 'Political Testosterone' at Regionals, we are going to have to stay on the ball with current affairs. He turned on Quinn, Finn and Santana who, sitting on the front row, appeared to be his key players. 'Especially you three. One of you is going to be the starting speaker so you won't have any opportunity to steal facts from the competition'.

Quinn and Santana merely rolled their eyes and shrugged but Finn seemed to be hanging onto the man's every word.

Rachel was just about to ask what current affairs had to do with glee club (though she thought she might have a pretty good idea of what this new club was), important as she believed it to be to keep abreast of such things – and who the hell were 'Political Testosterone' anyway – when, this time, Santana cut in. 'Schuester, you gotta let the Pillsbury Dough-Boy and Juno have their debate out first. They've been sniping at each other all week and it's driving me nuts!'

The rest of the club (minus an utterly disorientated Rachel) nodded fervently in agreement. Quinn looked amused but Finn looked decidedly disgruntled, Rachel thought. Well, she though it was disgruntlement – it may just have been gas if she were perfectly honest. She berated herself for this surprisingly harsh swipe at the boy she loved.

Mr Schu sighed. 'Well, alright. But you resolve this today, understand? The result today will be accepted with no argument. No more wasting time on this – we've got to prepare for Regionals.'

Quinn snorted 'Puh-lease. We never pick our topic until moments before competitions, let alone actually make any preparatory notes'.

The other clubbers grumbled in agreement and Kurt mumbled something about how lucky Barack Obama was not to have Mr Schu as his Speech-writer.

Characteristically, Mr Schu ignored them. He turned to Rachel. 'Okay Rach? You decide once and for all whether you're going to spend the rest of your life with Finn or Quinn'.

The two both smiled smugly in self-assured congratulations and Quinn tipped the brunette a wink. For some bizarre reason, said Brunette couldn't help but blush.

'But...' Rachel spluttered, when Shuester's words had sunk in. 'This is preposterous! I'm with Finn! And I'm not gay; and this isn't even a debating society, it's a glee club, for goodness sake!'

There was a pause while everyone simply looked at her – mildly taken aback by her outburst.

She looked around the room again and realisation dawned. 'Wait – this is a dream, isn't it?'

Quinn rewarded her with a broad smile and Rachel dimly noted that the Quinn in her subconscious didn't frown. She liked this Quinn, she thought.

'Well, would anyone like to take that up?' Mr Schu suggested, hopefully. 'I mean, is it really a dream? Or is...'

'It's a dream, Schu' Santana interrupted, bored. 'We all know that'.

'Yes, now can we just let Rachel's subconscious enlighten her in the freaking obvious', Kurt pleaded in exasperation.

'Preach', Artie mumbled.

Finn smiled dopily. Actually, 'dopy' was too kind a word. He looked kind of – well, completely – gormless.

Rachel's mouth opened and shut a couple of times as she looked between a caricatured brain-dead Finn and an unusually sunny and radiant Quinn. If this was a dream, didn't that mean that she herself was projecting these images of her two prospective life-partners (not that there was really a competition of course – look at them. Well, don't, she hastily amended to herself; but it didn't matter because she _loved_ Quinn. FINN! Damn it, why did their names have to rhyme?) ?

Santana leaned back to snort into Rachel's ear 'I thought Finn looked bad through my eyes, chica, but through yours...' she whistled, impressed. 'And by the way, could you tone it down on the Quinn-radiance? You're kind of blinding me here'

'Tell me about it' Kurt said. Rachel turned round to see him pointedly digging out a pair of large shades. Santana smirked.

Before Rachel could make a retort to either of them, Quinn had looked up, seen them watching her and given a tiny, adoring, beautiful smile before blowing Rachel a cheeky kiss which the Brunette unthinkingly 'caught' with reverence, before blinking to her senses and blushing profusely. The blonde merely grinned, satisfied, and turned to stick her tongue out at the oblivious Finn.

Santana retched. 'Ay Dios! Don't even bother with the debate – just look at what your brain is telling you!' she said, seemingly scarred by what she had witnessed.

Rachel wanted to argue but at that very moment her subconscious decided to make Finn get up and walk into the door. He grunted, then looked blearily around, evidently thinking his vacuous smile charming.

Santana raised an eyebrow, challenging Rachel to defend herself now. The girl couldn't think of a single rebuff. 'I'd still like to hear the debate', she insisted, stubbornly.

Santana sighed, resigned. 'Of course you do: anything less theatrical would be disappointing from your subconscious'.

Rachel grinned despite herself as her two courters took their podiums.

'Finn, would you like to begin?' Mr Schuester offered, smiling encouragingly at his favourite student. The boy nodded dumbly and Rachel realised dream-Finn had yet to articulate a single word.

There was an expectant silence as Finn surveyed his literally captive audience, none of whom looked particularly invested in whatever it was he was about to say. He found Rachel's eyes and she signalled that he should speak. 'Rachel should pick me because I am the quarter-back and captain of the football team, so I could like, take her to the cool parties. Also, Burt has taught me some of his stuff, so I could fix her car if it broke down. And we are like, the best singing-partners ever and I will buy her a really nice ring when we get married' he said triumphantly, beaming obliviously at his dumb-struck audience. Even Quinn looked at him with reluctant pity. 'You're awesome, Rach' he concluded. 'And I'm gonna name a star after myself to prove it'.

Another pause.

'How would that...?' Kurt began.

Santana shook her head in disbelief.

'Well done, Finn!' Mr Schuester encouraged. 'Great work. Now Quinn, you take your turn'.

The blonde raised her eyebrows at Rachel as if amazed that this farce needed to continue, but the Brunette simply gave her a mischievous grin. Well, C'mon, her mind was clearly made up now, but that didn't mean she wasn't interested in how Quinn was going to win her over.

The blonde chuckled and stepped forward to speak, ignoring her podium.

'Rachel Barbara Berry' she began, lips curving round the words as if they were sacred. 'I have loved you since the moment I saw you bouncing down the hallways with more joy in living than any other person I know. You're beautiful, you're the best singer in the world, but you're also generous, big-hearted and a great hugger'. Both girls blushed at this, neither able to look away from the other. The intensity of the words pulled them closer. 'You're smart, you're brave, you don't take any of my crap and everyone in this room owes you something for where they are now'. Rachel was dimly aware of a few reluctant nods, even from Santana. Quinn stopped directly in front of her and reached out for her hand, holding it warmly in her own. 'So please pick me, Rach', she asked softly. 'Because I don't know what I'll do if you don't'.

The Brunette found her cheeks were wet with happy tears as she squeezed the blonde's hand and nodded, speechless for the first time in any of the glee-club's (or debating society's) memory.

Quinn laughed in exuberant relief and grasped the girl's other hand, pulling their bodies flush against each other. Their eyes met once more. 'I love you, Rach' she promised.

Rachel smiled. 'I love you too, Quinn'.

'I KNEW IT' a voice cried in triumph.

Rachel woke with a start and looked around in confusion. She was lying on the (returned-to-normal) choir room floor looking up into the concerned hazel eyes of one Quinn Fabray.

The exclamation had apparently come from a very smug Santana who was watching proceedings with aloof amusement.

'Quinn?' Rachel asked, not understanding how she had got here. She knew she hadn't drunk much that day but to pass out was a bit extreme.

The blonde looked adoringly at her before pressing indescribably soft lips to hers. She drew back a little and looked the blissful Rachel in the eyes once more. 'I love you too, Rach. I'm glad you finally realised'.

The moment was a little ruined by Santana's 'Yeah, and it only took Finn accidentally clonking her on the head with his mallet-fists for her to have the epiphany', but Rachel let it slide in favour of stealing another kiss – what she knew would be only the second of many, many more to come.

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed it -reviews are, as ever, much appreciated. The next dream will be Quinn's and is inspired by 'The Princess Bride'. **


	2. Th Princess-Bride of Mckinley High

**A/N So this is set when Quinn is pregnant (as will become obvious), and living at Puck's house.**

Quinn leans back on the heap of pillows that Noah has surprisingly thoughtfully provided her with, mumbling something about Rachel having checked that he was doing everything he could to help his 'baby-mama'.

She holds her stomach, feeling with a wrenching mixture of relief and terror the beginnings of a smooth, hard bump. Allowing herself to be drawn into the fuzzy picture on the ancient TV once more, she feels her anxieties slowly sink back into the churning mulch of thoughts and half-grasped desires that fragment and re-form in the pools of her mind. She even feels a laugh tumble absent-mindedly from her lips as the 'rodents of unusual size' roll ridiculously around the screen and Buttercup draws back in 'fright'.

She hasn't seen 'The Princess-Bride' for years, and she'd forgotten how great pre-CGI special effects were. It isn't that that makes the movie great, though: she loves the book just as much and clearly special effects aren't a factor there. It's just the warmth and joy and life-affirming sunshine that seeps from every page and every line. There is not a single thing that cannot be overcome in its world - even death seems a pathetically weak attempt to stop true love, and is duly overpowered.

Smiling fondly, she feels herself sink slowly into longed-for sleep, only to find herself standing by a four-poster bed, draped in a white medieval gown. Feeling her hair, she notices it too is longer and wavier; almost as if...

she looks around the burning-torch-lit room and understanding dawns.

Almost as if she were the eponymous Princess-Bride stuck in Humperdick's Castle. Which must mean... she winces as she hears the door open and her thought is confirmed. She turns to find a lecherous Puck leaning in the doorway, loose white shirt spillinng out from black breeches. He's clearly in the middle of undressing and it is with sinking heart she examines her hand to find a wedding band on the appropriate finger.

She looks up again in time to see Puck lick his lips as he eyes her appreciatively. Quinn stares back in disbelief. 'You have got to be kidding me', she says bluntly.

Puck takes a step forward. 'Looking pretty smokin', my lady, forsooth'.

Quinn laughs, despite herself. 'Oh, c'mon; I'm way more informed about historical speech than that. If this is my subconscious, I'm very disappointed in myself'.

Puck draws back a little, offended. 'Hey, just because we're in your mind doesn't mean I'm suddenly all clever and shit. I'm still me - just seen through your filter'. He pauses, then frowns. 'Anyway, what was wrong with that? I thought it was pretty damn good'.

Quinn rolls her eyes, and takes a seat on the bed, relaxing even though she's well aware that Puck should be trying to kill her by now, according to the plot. But somehow she can't be worried - I mean, it's Puck for goodness' sake!

Puck looks a little confused by her calm reaction. 'Um, shouldn't you be screaming or something by now?'

'Shouldn't you be trying to kill me right about now?' she retorts.

The boy thinks for a moment and shrugs. 'Clearly your brain isn't too keen to enact out your death right now'.

Quinn chuckles. 'Clearly'. She looks about for a moment, aware that something is missing. 'Come to think of it, according to the plot, you do actually want to kill me. So, shouldn't there be a Westley here or something, you know, lying on the bed to save me from you despite me having four functioning limbs and him barely having the strength to lift up his head', her inner feminist cannot help her eyeroll - it is a somewhat ridiculous scenario after all.

Puck shrugs once more. 'Don't know, haven't read the book or seen the movie'.

Quinn stares at him for a moment, incredulous. 'As soon as I wake up, you are coming into my room and watching it with me'. The boy waggles his eyebrows hopefully and she flicks him in reprimand. He laughs, then thinks. 'I'm guessing Westley's probably the leading man then?'

'Yeah, the true-love of Buttercup - that's me by the way'.

Puck looks at her for a moment before he bursts out laughing.

'What?' Quinn asks in irritation.

'Just you, being called Buttercup' he gasps out. 'cause you're such a little ray of sunshine...'

Quinn huffs and kicks him, but she can't help but smile too. 'Shut up, Humperdick'.

Puck stares at her for a moment.

'You heard me', Quinn tells him, revelling in the horror on his face. 'You are indeed blessed with the gayest name in all history'.

Puck looks pissed off and quickly changes the subject again, much to Quinn's amusement. 'Well, who would this Westley guy be?' he asks. 'I mean, it's your dream: who do you want to save you?'

His question makes Quinn shut up as she thinks for a moment, taken-aback. Who does she want to save her? Her mind goes automatically to Finn, but the idea of him being able to comfort her is laughable - he couldn't even cheer her up when she was upset about arguing with Santana, and pregnancy was a bit of a bigger deal than that. Besides which, he was obviously still pretty furious with her.

Puck was out - the fact she had cast him as Humperdick showed how she felt about him, though really there is more affection between them than that.

Who else was there? Her mind flicks briefly over every boy in first the glee club, then the football team, but she draws a blank. Her eyebrows crinkle. Gee, if she really could think of no one that could and would save her, shouldn't she be like suicidal right about now?

A memory rises of a kind voice, bringing her back to sanity when really she had almost been contemplating doing just that. 'No one at glee is going to judge you'.

She knew Rachel had been desperate to reach out to her, but she doubted the girl realised how big an effect the words would have on her. It was a reminder, a beautifully-timed, desperately-needed reminder, that someone cared. That she had a family of sorts. That she wasn't as totally and utterly desolate of love as she had felt.

She snorts at the idea of Rachel Berry as a knight in shining armour, but then, memory after memory bursts out in front of her eyes: Rachel bribing Jacob Ben Israel not to blog about Quinn's pregnancy, Rachel holding Quinn firmly to place as she repeatedly tried to pull away from the only group of people that would help her, Rachel rallying the glee club to sing to her when she felt her lowest. Rachel almost crying as she sang to Quinn to 'keep holding on'.

Actually, she guesses, Rachel's about as close to a knight in shining armour as one can get. Especially seeing as Quinn was always so awful to her. And... well, Rachel really was kind of pretty, in spite of what Quinn spat at her nearly everyday. And... wait is she seriously considering Rachel Berry as the Westley to her Buttercup?

Just as this horrifying thought strikes, Rachel Berry herself stands tall (well, as tall as she can, Quinn notes affectionately before chiding herself) in the doorway, dressed in a similar manner to Puck but looking sooo much sexier. I mean, if you're into that. Which Quinn totally isn't.

Rachel smirks, as if reading the blonde's mind. 'Oh come on, Quinn. It's a bit late for denial now, I'm your Westley', she says smugly.

Quinn is frozen in shock before denial does indeed kick in and HBIC takes over. 'Yeah, well if you're my Westley, man-hands (they're not, they're totally not. They're slim and lithe and... focus Quinn!), why aren't you know, recovering from being mostly dead?' It's a weak defence, Quinn is fully aware of that and Rachel and Puck are too, if their unimpressed looks are any indication.

'I'm a star, Quinn. The show must go on. I simply overcame my temporary immobility with will-power'.

Quinn opens her mouth to refute the possibility of that, but if anyone could do it... she sighs. Ok, so Rachel could probably do that.

'So, you're my Westley', she states, half resigned, half still undecided.

Rachel nods.

'Meaning you're my one true love'.

Rachel nods again, and this time an adoring smile spreads across her face. 'Yes, Quinn. And it's about time you realised it!' she says, in fond exasperation.

A sly grin tilts up Quinn's lips. 'Okay, I'll accept that, and delay my big gay-panic 'til post-baby, 'cause that's honestly a bit too much to handle right now'. Rachel nods eagerly and Puck just glazes over as he pictures the two together. 'But...' she pauses for dramatic effect, knowing it drives Berry crazy. 'You still have to fight for me'.

Rachel gapes. 'But, but, Puck's not even trying to kill you!'

Puck nods vehemently in agreement. 'I'm just chilling with you', he protests indignantly.

Quinn rolls her eyes. 'Well start trying to kill me Buster, 'cause no sword-fight = no Quinn-sex for Rachel'.

Rachel blushes a deep red and stutters incoherently whilst Puck glazes over once more.

'But, Quinn...' she tries again.

Quinn fixes her with a stern gaze, before realising a more effective weapon, and batting her eyelashes. 'Please Rachel', she asks, wide-eyed and biting her lip.

She knows she's made the right decision when the other girl swallows and straightens herself, bravely swiping out her sword and poiting it at Puck.

Puck stands up too, confused, but going with it. 'You are so going down, Berry'.

Rachel laughs. 'Oh really Noah? Have you too been taking stage-fencing lessons for the past ten years?'

Puck's eyes widen comically and Quinn cannot help but smile when Rachel gives her a cocky wink before brandishing her sword at Puck.

'But...'

'Engarde, Noah!' she cuts him off.

Quinn sits up as Rachel advances on Noah and, despite the boy putting up a pretty decent effort considering he has never held a sword before, flicks the sword from his wrist in about 30 seconds flat. He puts and mumbles a defence about 'not being ready', but neither of the girls are listening. Instead, Rachel is returning the sword to its scabbard and tentatively approaching the bed Quinn was sat on. She kneels in front of the girl and takes one of her hands, kissing it. 'My Lady', she teases, grinning broadly.

Quinn giggles and Puck can hardly believe his eyes. Never has he seen her look so soft - not even asleep 'My Westley', the blonde returns, ducking her head shyly.

Rachel lifts the Blonde's head to meet her own eyes once more.

'As You Wish', she says softly, before bringing her impossibly soft lips to Quinn's.

**QFRB**

Quinn awakes with tears in her eyes, but feeling rather warm from the feeling of Rachel's lips on hers. She is just about to change her mind about the time-frame of the big gay panic she had discussed earlier, and start having it now after all, when there is a knock on her bedroom door.

'Not now, Puck' she dismisses.

The door pushes open regardless and Quinn is just about to yell at the boy when her eyes fall on the soft features and rather smaller stature of one Rachel Berry.

'R - Rachel?' she breathes.

The girl nods, and hesitantly steps into the room. 'I, I came to see if there was anything I could do to help you. I know it's late, but I was thinking about you and...'

Quinn bursts into tears at the girl's concern. God, she really hates pregnancy hormones.

Rachel is alarmed and is immediately at her side, holding her and gently shushing into her ear.

Quinn buries her face in Rachel's warm, cinnamon-scented neck, dimly aware that she had got the girl's smell right in her dream. As she calms, Rachel glances up to the TV and sees the titles of 'The Princess-Bride' rolling. 'I love that movie', she says quietly, wanting to draw the girl into conversation, and hopefully happiness.

Quinn laughs that phlegmmy laugh of one who has just been crying, and Rachel should probably be grossed out but she just draws her in closer. 'It's my favourite', Quinn confides, and Rachel's face lights up as she realises the enormity of Quinn sharing this oddly personal love.

Quinn draws back to look at the girl and she bites her lip, nervous. Seeing Rachel's eyes looking back at her with deep care gives her the courage to speak. 'Rach, will you - will you stay and watch it with me?' she asks, feeling ridiculously vulnerable. But both girls know that this is a far bigger step than anyone who didn't know their story would think.

Rachel's eyes lock onto Quinn's as she carefully says the words that begin their lives together: 'As you Wish'.

**A/N: Hmm, that got a lot more tearful/comforty than I was expecting! Anyway, please review if you can :D.**

**Next oneshot will be Rachel's dream again: This time it will be 'Mckinley High Glee Club versus Jerry Springer'!**


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